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Experiences of an Enlisted Man 

IN THE HOSPITAL 
IN THE EARLY PART OF THE WAR. 

PAPER READ BEFORE 

THE OHIO COMMANDERY OF THE LOYAL LEGION 

DECEMBER 2, 1908, 
BY 

XENOPHON WHKELER, 

Sergeant 67th O. V. 1.; Captain 129th O. V. I. 

OF 

Chattanooga, Tenn. 



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IN EXCHANGE 

JAN 5 . 1915 



THE 

Gxperienccs of an Enlisted man in tbe l)0$pital 

IN THE EARLY PART OF THE WAR. 



It is with many misgivings I have consented to read a war paper 
before the Commandery. 

I have nothing-, perhaps, out of the ordinary to relate, nothing ini- 
famihar to the experience of any soldier who carried a musket, or com- 
manded a compan}'. My command never happened to be on hand at the 
crisis of a battle, so far as I know. I was never of the inner circle, to 
give advice, which had it been followed, the war would have closed 
years before it did. 

I never was of counsel to a general commanding an army, or gave 
him information which averted a dire catastrophe to the Union Arms ; I 
didn't perform one single heroic exploit deserving to be preserved in 
prose or song. 

The future historian will find no material in my paper which he 
can use to make his history more realistic, or confirm theories respecting 
the proper conduct of the war. 

Indeed, I have always been confident, the Rebellion would have 
been suppressed without my assistance. 

It might have taken longer, but it would have been suppressed all 
the same. 

Inasmuch, therefore, as I have no startling exploits to narrate, nor 
can tell from personal experience how battles should have been fought 
and won, is it surprising that I should hesitate to read a paper dealing 
with the war, in the presence of so many men, who did so much more 
than I, and whose exciting experiences have added so much to the his- 
tory of the Rebellion? 

Possibly, however, a little incident of the hospital experience of an 
enlisted man, in the early part of the war, will not be entirely devoid of 
interest. 



In the early part of March, 1862, a portion of the Division of the 
Armv of the Potomac, was landed from the cars of the Baltimore and 
Ohio Railroadj at Martinsburg. 

We had been spending most of the Winter of 1861-2 in the moun- 
tains, guarding the line of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Lander, 
who commanded the Division had died, and Shields succeeded to the 
command. 

Almost at once we were started up the Valley of Mrginia. We 
understood we were a part of the great movement of the x\rmy of the 
Potomac for the capture of Richmond, defeat of the Army of Northern 
Virginia and suppression of the Rebellion, in which we were to bear no 
ignoble part. Instead of lying idle, guarding the line of railroad, we 
were to take a more active and honorable position in the great movement 
of our comrades, to the eastward. Who could doubt of our success? 
Were we not commanded by the Little Napoleon, the most superb war- 
rior of our time ? And was not Seward still prophesying that the war 
would be of short duration? The Union i\rms had triumphed at j\Iill 
Springs ; Island No. 10 had fallen ; Donaldson had surrendered with 
20,000 prisoners ; and Albert Sidney Johnston had fallen back from 
Bowling Green to Corinth and all Middle Tennessee lay open to the vic- 
torious arms of our comrades of the west. The great trouble with many 
of us was, that the war would close, withcrut our having any opportunity 
of being in it, or having a chance of distinguishing ourselves. Who could 
have foreseen that our military idol had feet of clay? In considering 
the situation in the early months of 1862, with the more complete knowl- 
edge the years have brought us, who will say that our expectations were 
unreasonable or fantastic ? For one_, I am still of the opinion, that had 
the Army of the Potomac been ably commanded the war would have 
been closed before the end of 1862. 

But one thing consoled us, as we trudged southward over the 
Valley Pike, singing "John Brown's body lies moldering in the grave." 
We were likely to have, at least, one afifair before the war ended, for 
Stonewall Jackson was at Winchester, barring the back door to Rich- 
mond, and he must be disposed of, before we could prosecute our 
journey to the rendezvous of the Grand Army of the Poton^ac, in front 
of Richmond, where the great battle was to be fought, in which we 
were to be participants. 

But when we arrived at Winchester Jackson was not there. Indeed 



it was found afterwards that that miHtary o^entlenian, had the habit of 
not being where he 7i'as expected, and being where he was not expected. 
On this occasion he disappointed us, for though he knew we were com- 
ing expressly to see him, yet when we got to Winchester, he was at 
Strasburg. 

We remained at Winchester a few days, awaiting the movements 
of our Commander to the eastward, when Jackson, being reinforced, 
took the aggressive and came back to interview us. I do not propose to 
bore yoii with a description of what I saw of the battle of Winchester, 
or Kearnstown, as our Confederate friends call it. fought on the 23rd 
day of March. 18(52. IMy own Company was doing guard duty in Win- 
chester, and. supposing that this might be my only opportunity to par- 
ticipate in a battle, I ran away, borrowed a gun and accouterments and 
spent the most enjoyable day of my army life, most of the time on the 
skirmish line with the 8th Ohio. It was a hard fight and we gave a 
good account of ourselves. Jackson, the only time in his life was de- 
feated, and retreated back up the V'alley, followed by our troops as far 
as Strasburg. But I was not among the pursuing forces, for just at the 
close of the battle. I was severely wounded, and carried the bullet I re- 
ceived for the next ten years. I have often wondered if other men, first 
going into battle, fortified their courage as I did mine. I had seen it 
stated, and I believed it, that it took six hundred pounds of lead to kill 
one man, and when the bullets were singing around me very indis- 
criminately, I had little fear. Since it took so maiiy bullets to hit 
one man, it was most improbable that one would hit me, and I was the 
most astonished man in the Army. when, contrary to the law of pro- 
babilities. I found that a bullet had struck me. I have distrusted that 
calculation ever since. 

I pass over my being transported at night, to the Valley Pike, in 
an army wagon, with some other wounded, through fields, lately for- 
ests, where stumps and rocks abounded. It was very painful, but not 
different from what tens of thousands of others experienced. 

On the next day but one, after the battle, I was taken to the Semin- 
ary Hospital, in Winchester, and my hospital life of fourteen weeks 
began. 

Upon looking over the foregoing, I am strongly reminded of an 
incident in the Widow Bedott papers. 

Some of you may remember that widow, she was telling her hearers 



what her late lamented companion had said to her and which had left ail 
indelihle impression on her mind ; and, after a great many circumlocu- 
tions and divergencies and windings around Robin Hood's barn, it came 
out at last. 

Her dear husband had once said to her, "We are all poor critters." 

As might have been expected at that early stage of the war, the 
wounded fared pretty badly for a few days after the battle of Win- 
chester, or Kearnstown, for it was before the days of State and Sanitary 
Commissions. Our beds were blankets laid on the floor. The Govern- 
ment, apparently, had not anticipated any such state of disorder and 
want of organization, as prevailed. 

Meals were very uncertain and illy adapted to the appetites of 
wounded and sick men. In this state of affairs, the women of Winchester, 
came to our relief, and for several days brought us supplies of cooked 
provisions in baskets and pails. They didn't hesitate, either, to tell us 
that they were our enemies, as we were theirs ; that we had come as 
invaders of their country, but all the same we were in distress, and they 
were disposed to return good for evil. 

A good many of us were in no condition to discuss the causes of the 
war with those fair enemies, even if we had been so disposed, and were 
willing to take the "goods the gods" had provided, without argument 
as to the rights of Secession. But all were not Secessionists. One 
morning a woman came into our room with a basket of food, whose 
dress and language at once proclaimed her a disciple of William Penn. 
She was a goodlooking woman, with grey hair, very neatly dressed, and 
middle aged. 

It so happened that another woman had been in our room with 
food, and our wants had already been supplied, and when she offered 
me food, I declined as gracefully as I could, and told her there were 
other men, who had had nothing, and were hungry and I begged her to 
take her food to them. She appeared displeased, and said, "Thee need 
not take it if thee don't want it." I again explained that I had already 
had something to eat, that there were others who had not, and were 
hungry, and would greatly appreciate her supplies, and she left the 
room, and I never expected to see her again. But I judged wrongly, for 
the next morning, earlier, she came in with some more provisions. 

Some years before, while a student at Oberlin, I had taught 
school one winter in Highland County, and I thought I was quite fam- 



iliar with the peculiarities of the Quaker dialect, and as soon as she canie 
in, I accosted her with "How does thee do?" and during the conversa- 
tion that ensued, I said my "thees" and "thous" with, as I thought, the 
grace of a native to the manor born ; but such was evidently not her 
opinion, for as she went away, with a humorous smile, she said, "Thee 
need not try to talk like a Friend ; Thee is no Friend." 

Thus began my friendship with Ann Humphrey Brown, a friend- 
ship which death only terminated. 

In a few days the hospital service got better organized, supplies of 
all kinds came pouring in, and all absolute needs were supplied by a 
generous Government, and the good women of Winchester had no 
longer occasion to regard us as an object of charity and ceased bringing 
us supplies of food. 

But Ann Humphrey Brown did not discontinue her visits to the 
Hospital. She shortly notified the hospital authorities that they need 
provide no food for me, that she would attend to that, and during my 
long stay in the hospital, a servant, three times a day, brought me the 
best the market at Winchester afiforded. 

I was forbidden to eat any food cooked in the hospital. She was 
a delicate woman, and announced that one soldier was all she could care 
for, and she gave me her undivided attention and care, so that I came to 
be known in the hospital, and among her friends, as "Ann Humphrey 
Brown's Soldier." No day passed without her coming to see me, and 
when I grew worse — for I was hurt much worse than was at first sup- 
posed — she daily spent hours by my bed, attending to every want with 
the tenderness of a sister. 

When I grew better, frequent visitors from among her Quaker ac- 
quaintances would come in to see me, and many a weary hour was 
thus whiled away. 

Gradually I learned her history from her Quaker friends. Her 
father, a well-to-do citizen of Winchester, had died many years before, 
leaving a respectable estate to his only son and daughter. Ann was a 
handsome girl, but early lost her lover, a Quaker like herself, and she 
fell into a settled melancholy, afifecting her spirits and her health, and 
which did not appear to have been dissipated by a second engagement, 
to an artist then in Europe. In this state of brooding melancholy, tak- 
ing little interest in life, the Battle of Winchester found her, and the 
sight of sufifering stirred her out of her legthargy, and awakened the 



dormant qualities of her womanly nature. Her brother's wife had no 
sympathy for the National cause, and I imagine she was not a little 
disgusted with her sister-in-law's devotion to a Yankee Soldier, and 
angered by the preparation of daily meals for him. ( For Ann lived 
with her brother and his wife.) 

She always called me "Cousin David" from a fancied resemblance 
to a cousin, then living in Indiana. 

So passed nine weeks of my hospital life, when suddenly Jackson 
returned to the X'allev and commenced the campaign that has elicited 
the admiration of both friends and foes. Banks, whose division had 
taken our place in the valley, was driven pellmell down the Valley and 
the most serious apprehensions were entertained for the safety of 
Washington. 

In the midst of this universal alarm, the Commandant at Winches- 
ter, was ordered to remove all sick and wounded, that could be removed 
over the strap railroad running from Harper's Ferry to W inchester. 

Ann Humphre\- Brown went to the Commandant, and protested 
against my removal, and secured an exception in my case, but the next 
morning a more imperative order came to Winchester with no excep- 
tions allowed, and I was taken out in my cot to a box car, and with 
many others, shipped to Frederick City. She accompanied me to the 
cars, shed copious tears at our parting, in which I am not ashamed to 
say, I joined. 

Peculiar coincidences occur, in perhaps the lives of all of us, and 
one occurred in mine, in connection with Ann Humphrey Brown, which 
it may not be amiss to relate. I have already stated that she invariably 
called me "Cousin David," but the rest of the name of this Indiana 
relation of hers I did not know. 

Shortly before the war I taught school one winter in Harrison, 
near Cincinnati, on the Ohio and Indiana line, and came across a volume 
of doggerel poetry of purely local character, dealing alone with local 
characters and incidents, written by a man by the name of Cotton, and 
which in some wa}- had found a publisher. I never could imagine how 
such a book could find its way out of the immediate neighborhood of 
its silly author, and I was surprised, one day. when a copy of this book 
was brought to me in the Hospital at Winchester. 

In the early seventies I was in Rockwood. Tennessee, taking din- 
ner with the Superintendent of the Rockwood Furnace. My host had 



formerly lived in Lawrenceburg, and we naturally got to talking about 
Harrison and the people in it, and the book of poems of Cotton, with 
which he was quite familiar, and he repeated several absurd passages. 
I said something to the etfect that it was wonderful how books got dis- 
tributed, and said that the book of Cotton's has gotten as far away as 
Winchester, and had been brought to me in the hospital. He pricked 
up his ears at once and asked if Ann Jackson brought it to me. I was 
much surprised to know of his knowledge of Ann Jackson, for she had 
been another Quaker \'oluntcer nurse in the hospital, and I knew her 
well. I told him no, and asked him how he came to know Ann Jackson. 
He did not reply, but at once asked if it was Ann Humphrey Brown. I 
v.'as amazed but finally asked how he knew Ann Humphrey Brown, but 
without answering, he asked if she used to call me "Cousin David." 
My astonishment can be imagined when he told me he was the "Cousin 
David" I was supposed to resemble. 

It then developed that my host had been born and brought up at 
Winchester, as a Quaker, was related to the Browns and acquainted 
with the Jacksons. It seems that Ann Jackson had become engaged to 
be married to a man in Illinois and he came in the summer of 18G4 as 
far as Martinsburg to get his bethrothed, where he was stopped, for 
Winchester was at that time in the hands of the Rebels one day and in 
ours the next. But Ann Jackson was well known to Sheridan, not only 
as a Union Woman, but as a woman very prominent in hospital work, 
and who, more than once, had sent valuable information through the 
lines of the Union Commanders ; and so he sent a troop of cavalry to 
Winchester to escort Ann to Martinsburg where she was married' in 
the presence of Sheridan and his staff. 

On the way to Illinois, the bride and groom visited in Indiana, and 
there, among the relatives, Ann Jackson had told of Ann Humphrey 
Brown's devotion to a wounded (Jhio soldier more than two years 
before. 

I never saw Ann after we parted, in tears, at Winchester, but when 
mv first-born came to me she was christened "Ann Brown Wheeler." 

The situation at Winchester was such, and my own subsequent ser- 
vice, that correspondence was difficult, and after an interval of several 
years, I learned that she had married her artist lover, and had removed 
to Iowa. I have reason to believe that the world did not deal kindly 
with Ann and her impractical husband, and at one time I had the privil- 



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ege of repaying, in some small degree, the great debt I owed. But she 
long since "passed over the River ;" I have become an old man, and the 
memory of those long, dreadful nights in the hospital at Winchester, 
many years ago, ceased to disturb my slumbers ; but I never recall 
without a rush of tenderness the devotion of the dear Quaker woman 
who was mindful of the words of the Master, "I was sick and in prison, 
and ye visited me." 



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